Thief of Hearts

A shiver trailed down Kristens spine. She pulled back to look at Brent, to meet his gaze. "What do you steal?" she asked, her voice not quite steady.

"Women," he said.

"Thats not funny."

He leaned toward her again, so close her heart pounded an anxious rhythm to her brain. She reached for her soda and took a sip. The cherry in her glass floated to the top, brushing her mouth. But she wasnt about to eat it, to suck on the sweetness the way shed done before.

"Im a jewel thief," he finally said.

Jewels? Shimmering stones? Priceless heirlooms? She tried to picture him, dressed in dark clothes, scaling walls and deactivating alarm systems. He watched her with those onyx eyes, and she shook her head. She could tell he was amused by her reaction. "I dont believe you."

He merely smiled. "Come up to my room and Ill prove it."

Kristen wondered if that was her cue to fall at his feet, to melt like the nervous female she was. She tilted her head, mimicking a diva, doing her best to seem unaffected by his offer. "Why? Do you have the Hope Diamond tucked under your bed?"

He sat back in his seat, chuckled at her wit. "Speaking of stones Whats your birthstone?"

"Sapphire. I was born in September." But shed never owned a birthstone setting. She rubbed the empty spot on her ring finger, frowned at the tan line around it. "Whats yours?"

"Ruby." He snared her attention with his voice, with the deep, rich tone. "Its said that rubies grow dull if a person ignores them. Theyre supposed to be worn and seen." He lifted his vodkaspiked drink and took a long, hard swallow. "They also have the power to reconcile quarreling lovers."

"I dont quarrel with my lovers."

"Dont you?" He glanced at the vacant spot on her finger. "What kind of ring used to be there?"

Caught off guard, she gulped the air in her lungs, cursing his observation. "A diamond."

"A diamond is supposed to be the ultimate gift of love," he remarked. "But with a large stone, rubies are worth two to three times a diamond of equal size and quality."

"Then my husband should have given me a ruby." She studied his hand. He wasnt wearing a ring, either. When she looked up, she found him staring at her. "But what does a lawman know?"

"A lawman?" He raised his brows. "You were married to a cop?"

She sipped her soda again, wetting her lips, ignoring the aggressive cherry. "A deputy U.S. marshal."

"A federal dude." Brent made a humored face. "Was he boring?"

Boring wasnt the word she would have chosen, not for an overly dedicated deputy whose job ruled his world. "He was a member of the Special Operations Group. He still is," she added.

"Oooh. A tough guy." He grinned at her. "Riot control. Highthreat emergencies. Ill bet he was gone a lot."

She flinched, and his smile fell. They sat quietly for a moment, the sights and sounds of Las Vegas swallowing them whole. A band played at the small stage in the lounge, filling the bar with familiar tunes, with love songs of days gone by. Vintage music, she thought. Faded memories.

"I didnt mean to upset you," he said.

She released a shaky breath, wishing he hadnt stumbled upon her pain, the ache of a distant marriage. "I never told him that. I never told him how difficult it was for me when he was gone. That I didnt like being alone." She studied Brent, wondering why he claimed to be a thief. His socalled profession made her curious, but it confused her, too.

He thrust a hand through his hair. "So howd you meet the deputy marshal?"

"My father introduced us. Dads a state senator, and the man I married " She stalled, refusing to say his name. "He was always so controlled around me. So proper."

"But you wanted something more? Something wild. Something free."

"I wanted him to stop treating me like a politicians daughter. Like a woman he wasnt allowed to ravish."

Brent reached out to touch her cheek, to skim his hand along her skin, to graze her with the pad of his thumb. "Come to my room, Kristen."

Her knees turned to liquid; her pulse jumped desperately to her throat. She wanted him, every dark, dangerous inch of him. But it was too soon. "I cant."

A frown creased his brow. "Why not?"

Because she wasnt ready, she thought. Because she needed more time before she slept with him. "Things are moving too fast." And getting too emotional. "Tell me who you are. Tell me something about your family."

"My father worked in a factory, and my mother died when I was ten." He paused. "I resemble her. She was part Cherokee."

"So thats the tribe youre from?"

"Yes, but Im not registered with the Cherokee Nation. Im not eligible for a CDIB. A Certificate Degree of Indian Blood," he clarified. "My mothers family didnt qualify for tribal membership."

She looked into his eyes and saw his discomfort, but he brushed it off with a smile, hiding his soul, the man behind the mask.

"Do you want to dance?" he asked, changing the subject, steering her away from his ancestry, from the pain of losing his mother.

Kristen touched his hand. Suddenly she wanted to let this man hold her, this selfproclaimed thief, this stranger. She wanted to learn more about Brent, more about jewels and legends, more about why he had such a tender yet lethal heart. "Id love to dance with you."

They walked onto the cozy floor, and as he took her in his arms, she put her head on his shoulder. Inhaling his cologne, she closed her eyes. They were the only couple swaying to the music, to lyrics created just for lovers.

"Tell me about sapphires," she said.

He pressed his lips to her temple. "They come in all colors, except red."

"Like rubies." She opened her eyes. "Were nothing alike, are we?"

He shook his head. "No. But that doesnt mean we wouldnt be good together." He touched a strand of her perfectly coiffed hair. "They say sapphires wont shine if theyre worn by the wicked or the impure." He smiled a little. "I think youre more innocent than you led me to believe."

She drew a shaky breath, recalling her claim to be wicked. "This is my first affair."

His smile deepened. "Are we having an affair, sweet Kristen? Is that what this is?"

She nearly sighed, touched by the way he said her name. And when he spun her in his arms, she noticed a striking blonde enter the lounge. A woman who appeared to be watching her and Brent.